


Stripping Santas

by LoudenSwainfangirl, tricia_16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Wings, BiCurious Sam Winchester, Bottom Dean, Gabriel/Sam Winchester Kissing, Gay Sex, M/M, Mating Bites, Porn With Plot, Scent Kink, Scenting, Some A/B/O Dynamics, Stripping, Top Castiel, True Mates, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, this was supposed to be a Christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-08 10:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12862377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/pseuds/LoudenSwainfangirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: Dean has a bit of a kink for angel wings.Castiel has a bit of a kink for Santa #5.Or:The one where Dean and Castiel meet for the first time when Castiel bids on Dean in a Stripping Santas auction, and Castiel realizes Dean is his true mate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is based on the stripping scene in A Bad Moms Christmas, so thank that movie for the idea!
> 
> Songs and lyrics included here are Nelly's Hot In Here and Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC.
> 
> If you're here JUST for the porn, skip to the next chapter!

“Gabriel, please - " Castiel begs him.

“Come on, Cassie. Just take another shot,” Gabriel insists.

“But I -  " Castiel tries again.

This time it’s Balthazar who interrupts him. “ _Shot_.”

Castiel exhales loudly, his wings deflating with defeat as he tips back another shot. This is how many now? A dozen? And still, he feels just as sober as if he hasn’t had a single drink. He winces as the liquid burns on the way down. This is not pleasant.

“This is a waste of time,” Castiel tells them again.

“We’re angels, Castiel. We have all the time in the world, love! Don’t sweat it,” Balthazar soothes him. “Here, have another one.”

Castiel drinks down the proffered shot and shakes his head as it, too, burns a path down to his stomach. “Why am I doing this?”

“Because you finally admitted you wanna trade that stick up your ass for something’ bigger,” Gabriel reminds him with a sideways smile.

Castiel sputters his response, his wings fluttering with indignance. “I - I did _not_ \- say anything of the sort!”

“You know, on second thought, I believe Castiel is right, brother. I believe it was _you_ that suggested the swap to help Castiel loosen up. No pun intended,” Balthazar smiles with a small nod.

“‘Course it was my idea! I’m a genius! One night off from looking for prayer boy for the first time in ten years isn’t going to kill you, Cassie,” Gabriel says (not for the first time). “Keep drinking those shots down, boys. The show starts in an hour and we need Cassie here to wipe that constipated look off of his face!”

Thirty minutes and another ten shots later, Castiel is in fact beginning to feel some effects from the alcohol. He feels a rather pleasant buzzing under his skin and although he won’t admit it aloud, he is feeling himself loosen up at least somewhat. He even manages to put the compulsion to find the man he’s been trying to track down for a dozen years out of his mind. He notices that his smiles are coming easier, his wings are relaxing, and he’s having more fun than he can remember having in centuries.

“Let’s get the show on the road,” Gabriel suggests.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t _believe_ I let you talk me into this,” Sam grumbles for the hundredth time as they walk into the bar.

“Would you quit your bitching for five freakin’ minutes?” Dean asks bitterly.

The extra cash might not even be worth it if he has to listen to this all damn night. Although, the potential of sleeping in a hotel without having to worry about what _else_ is sleeping there with them does have its appeal.

“This is humiliating!” Sam complains.

Dean thinks briefly about the nights he used to spend on his knees in the alley behind the local bar just to bring in a couple of bucks and is glad Sam doesn’t know what _real_ humiliation feels like.

“You haven’t even done anything yet!” Dean reminds him. He walks up to the man sitting behind the bar. “Sam and Dean Winchester here to register for the Santa Strip,” Dean tells him.

“You bring your own suits?” the man asks.

“Right here,” Dean says, lifting the garment bag with a smile. “Sasquatch over here wouldn’t fit in just any Santa suit.”

“Write down your name and music choice, and then sign here,” the man says, pushing a clipboard across the bar. Dean skims the document quickly and signs it before he hands the clipboard to Sam. Of course, Sam reads every damn word, and Dean leans against the bar impatiently while he waits. Finally, Sam signs it and hands it back to the dude behind the bar.

“Show starts in a half hour.” He hands Dean two tags with large numbers on them. “Go across the room and down the hall. The door’s marked with a Santa hat. You can get ready in there. Make sure you each put a number somewhere visible on your suit.”

“Sounds good, thanks man,” Dean says, and he starts down the hall the way the guy gestured.

Dean nods his hello to the few other guys in the change room. Unless some of these guys can really move, he doesn’t think he’s going to have any trouble bringing in some decent cash tonight. Just another thing his pretty face is going to come in handy for, he smirks to himself.

“Suit up, Sammy.”

Sam scowls at him. “I hate you so much right now.”

“We’ll see if you still feel the same way when we’re up a grand in a single night,” Dean tells him.

Sam scoffs. “There’s no way I’m going to draw in that much money, Dean. I’m going to fall on my face! I already can’t even feel my knees.”

Dean pulls a face. “Can you usually feel your knees?”

“Shut up,” Sam answers, and Dean grins, pulling off his t-shirt and flannel all at once.

“Listen, your face is ugly and your hair’s girly, but all those kale smoothies are gonna finally be good for something once you get your suit off,” Dean promises him.

“If you say so,” Sam replies, doubt audible in his voice. “You hoping for a girl or a guy tonight?” Sam asks him.

Dean shrugs. “Don’t matter to me. All I’m really hopin’ for is a pair of wings.”

Sam shakes his head in amusement. “You and your angel thing.”

 _Angels are watching over you_ , Dean hears his mom say in his head. Dean smiles to himself. If only they weren’t so damn hard to find nowadays. “Can’t help it, Sammy. Somethin’ about wings just gets me all hot and bothered.”

“Gross,” Sam complains.

“You asked!” Dean reminds him.

“Temporary lack of judgement. I’m just trying to think about anything other than stripping in front of a bunch of drunk people,” Sam admits.

“Just think of it as a bathing suit. You gotta leave your tighty whiteys on anyway. Just like swimming,” Dean repeats.

Dean gets another bitch face in response from Sam. “I’d _prefer_ tighty whiteys to these stupid things! And if I wore shiny little booty shorts or whatever the hell you called these to go swimming, I’d be just as embarrassed as I am right now.”

“Sam, relax. Nobody’s gonna be able to tell you have a teeny weeny from up on stage,” Dean teases him.

“Screw you, Dean,” Sam responds and Dean laughs at his expense. “You know everything about me is proportional,” Sam continues.

“Uh, no, Sam. I _don’t_ know and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much,” Dean disagrees. “Now shut your cake hole and finish putting your suit on.”

 

* * *

 

“Do I want to know what strings you had to pull to get us in the front row?” Castiel asks, taking his seat at the table directly in the middle of the stage. He’s definitely at least a little bit drunk and his wings are trembling with nerves.

“Just the owner’s ding dong,” Gabriel answers, smiling wide. Castiel can feel his face flush red and wishes for the millionth time his brothers didn’t talk this way around him.

“All you had to say was no. _No_ , I didn’t want to know,” Castiel repeats.

Balthazar comes back with a tray of drinks and shots and passes Castiel a plastic object that resembles a test tube.

“Bottoms up, Cassie,” Balthazar tells him, and Castiel’s drunk enough already that he follows his directions without argument. This, at least, is sweet and pleasant to drink. There’s not even any burning.

“So tell me about your dream man, Castiel. The one that makes your feathers flutter in a tizzy and your oil glands start leaking like a faucet,” Gabriel asks. “Gotta know what we’re lookin’ for, here.”

“I… I don’t know,” Castiel answers honestly.

“Taller or shorter than you?” Balthazar asks.

“Taller,” Castiel answers quickly, imagining big, strong hands cording through his wings.

“You like ‘em big and burly, wiry, or a little cushion for the pushin’?” Gabriel prods.

“Um,” Castiel says while he thinks. “Strong, but not body builder strong. I am not attracted to anybody smaller than me. I don’t want to see ribs,” Castiel explains.

“Angel or human?” Gabriel continues.

“It’s not of import. Aside from demons, I am utterly indifferent to species,” Castiel clarifies. _As long as he likes my wings_ , Castiel thinks to himself.

“Remember love, if you don’t speak up and tell us which one you like we’ll pick a suitable Santa on our own and there’s no returning the merchandise,” Balthazar reminds him.

“He doesn’t have to have intercourse with me,” Castiel says, his wings fluffing up in embarrassment.

“ _Intercourse,_ ” Balthazar repeats, sharing an amused look with Gabriel. Castiel’s wing tips flitter nervously, knowing they’re teasing him but not knowing why. Even after a dozen years on earth he just doesn't understand humans the way his brothers seem to.

“You’re a catch, Cassie, nobody’s going to say no to that sex hair and big blue eyes of yours once you get them alone,” Gabriel insists.

Castiel reaches for another tube shot on his own and swallows it down. He’s extremely nervous and he knows his wings are giving him away.

“And remember, the sky’s the limit when it comes to money,” Balthazar adds, flashing a credit card.

“I remember,” Castiel repeats stoically.

The lights come on the stage in front of them and Castiel’s wings instantly fold in on themselves, trying to make himself look less intimidating and more alluring. Nobody’s attracted to black wings, anyway.

“Hello, darlings,” a very deep voice booms from the microphone. A short and stocky man wearing a very smart suit walks to center stage. “Welcome to our fourth annual Santa Strip,” he announces, and the crowd erupts in applause. “The bidding starts at $100, and that’s the only money I get in my pocket tonight. Your Santa gets half of the money he makes, and the other half goes to the Santa Fund, so not only are you treating your naughty side to an early Christmas present, your nice side is helping out a good cause, too. It’s win-win situation for everybody involved.” There’s a general smattering of agreement from the crowd. “Remember: cash and all major credit cards are accepted, and payment is due before you leave the bar. Whoever has the highest bid at the end of the song gets your Santa until 2AM tonight. Whatever happens… happens,” he adds, smiling an oily smile.

Castiel does not like this man.

“To get the party started, we’re going to bring out all of our stripping Santas so you can decide which one you want to fight for. Without further ado, please welcome this year's Stripping Santas!”

What sounds like a rock version of _Santa Baby_ starts blaring over the speakers, electric guitar screaming as the men walk onto the stage. Gabriel cat calls loudly and Castiel sinks further into his chair as a lineup of men stretch out in front of them on stage. Why did he agree to this?

Each Santa has a number on his suit, and they each seem to have different variations of the typical Santa suit on. Some are bright red, some are dark, some appear to be some sort of stretchy material. Some look like they’ve seen better days and others look as if they must have cost a small fortune.

His eyes automatically scan the men’s faces and suits, dismissing them one by one, not feeling even the tiniest bit of attraction to any of them. Story of his life. His eyes stop on Santa #4 almost directly in front of their table, not due to attraction but because of how incredibly tall the man is. His long hair peeks out from underneath his hat and Castiel feels bad for the man when he sees how visibly uncomfortable he is. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s looking straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight.

“DIBS ON SANTA NUMBER FOUR!” Gabriel shouts at the top of his lungs from beside him.

Santa #4, Balthazar and Castiel all jump in surprise from the outburst.

“I think the entire building heard you, Gabriel, tone it down a little bit, love,” Balthazar says through his laughter.

Sure enough, the tall man looks down at Gabriel with his eyes wide in surprise.

“PUT A BABY IN ME SANTA NUMBER FOUR!” Gabriel yells again, slamming his hand down on the table in front of them, and this time Castiel can’t even hold in his laughter at the look of absolute horror on the poor Santa’s face.

Castiel picks up a low, rumbling laugh through all the other sounds in the bar, and realizes it’s coming from the man beside Santa #4. His eyes flick over to him and the very first thing he notices is the overwhelmingly white light of his soul shining in his chest. It’s the brightest, purest soul he has ever seen in all of his existence. It’s exquisite. Once he’s able to look elsewhere, his eyes fall upon the big, beautiful smile on the man’s face. He is obviously amused by Gabriel’s antics. He has modelesque perfectly white, straight teeth surrounded by a pair of luscious pink lips Castiel couldn’t have even dreamed up. Castiel licks his own lips in response and he can feel his feathers spreading out with the desire to preen for this man.  

The movement of his wings seems to draw Santa #5’s gaze, and then their eyes lock. Desire thrums through his body for perhaps the first time in his entire existence. _Wow._ Those eyes. They’re so impossibly green. Like the rolling hills in Ireland. Santa #5 shoots him a cocky little wink and Castiel feels his face flush and his wings spread wide in a display of dominance.

 _Mine_ ripples through Castiel’s entire being.

“Hey-oh!” Balthazar calls out. “Looks like Castiel caught one,” he says to Gabriel.

 

* * *

 

Dean finally manages to tear his eyes away from the blue eyed angel of pure sex in front of him and notices that some of the other dudes are dancing to the music. Shit. Okay, game time. He elbows Sam beside him, who is still staring at the little dude with the golden wings who apparently wants Sam to defy biology and knock him up, and gives an experimental wiggle of his hips in time to the beat of the song. He widens his eyes at Sam, prompting him to dance.

 _Santa Baby_. How completely unoriginal and absolutely hilarious. At least it’s a rock version.

Sam glares at him but shifts side to side stiffly on his feet in what Dean can only assume is supposed to be his attempt at dancing.

Dean’s eyes scan the crowd, smiling and waving to anybody he thinks might bid on him, but he can’t keep his eyes away from the angel in the front row. His wings are fucking _gorgeous._ Big and black and iridescent in the lights from the stage. He knows if he keeps lookin’ at them he’s gonna get hard, but he finds he can’t keep his eyes away for more than a minute at a time. Anytime sex angel catches his eyes, his wings fluff up or get bigger, and Dean’s _really_ hoping that’s a good thing because he wants to bury his hands in them yesterday.

He makes eye contact with the angel and mouths, _Santa cutie, there’s one thing I really do need._ He bites down on his lower lip and he can see the angel’s eyes go impossibly wider before he shifts a little bit in his seat. _That’s right, angel_ , Dean thinks. _Get hard for me_. No matter who ends up with him tonight, angel boy’s not leaving without his number. Fuck, he’s hot.

He grabs a hold of the sash on his Santa suit and swings it around while he rolls his hips in a circle and puts a cocky smirk on his face.

The angel reaches for another shot and Dean can’t hold in the laugher that spills out of him. The angel looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. He wonders what an obviously shy guy like him is doin’ at a place like this, but then remembers the rowdy little guy beside him and realizes he’s probably been dragged along. He lifts his eyes again to scan the crowd and blows a kiss to an older lady in the back who’s yelling for him.

The wings on the angel in front of him spread impossibly wider with a loud snap and seem to sharpen somehow, and Dean looks down to see his eyes _glowing_ with an intense blue light. Dean’s mouth goes dry and he can swear he hears some sort of a growl coming from the angel and for whatever reason, his dick is _really_ on board with all of this.

The dude beside his sex angel lays a hand on his arm carefully and sex angel blinks his eyes and his light goes out.

Damn. That was _hot_.

The song’s coming to an end, so Dean takes a chance and runs his hands down his thighs slowly while he mouths, _Santa baby hurry down the chimney tonight_. He falls to his knees with his legs spread wide in front of the sex angel, and lowers his head so that he can glance up at him through his eyelashes.

The angel’s wings are fluttering and Dean gets the sense that’s nervous.

The music stops and Dean gets back up to his feet and waves at the crowd’s cheering.

The host comes back on the stage and announces they’re going to have a five minute break before the first Santa comes out for his dance. Dean shoots the angel one final wink before he walks off stage with Sam following closely behind.

 

* * *

 

“So it seems perfectly clear that we don’t need to ask which Santa you’d like to bid on tonight, Castiel,” Balthazar says.

“I - I can’t believe I reacted like that to somebody I don’t even know,” Castiel says in disbelief.

 _Mine mate mine mate mate mate_ is still thrumming through his veins. Is it even possible…?

“Didn’t think you had it in ya, kid,” Gabriel says with a thump on his back.

“Gabriel, can an angel mate with a human?”

Gabriel’s eyes widen. “Woah, Cassie. You haven’t even talked to him yet.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Castiel insists. “Is it possible?”

Gabriel and Balthazar exchange glances. Gabriel shrugs. “It hasn’t happened before that I know of, but with our dad? I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“I need him,” Castiel says passionately.

“Then he’s yours,” Balthazar agrees. “At least until 2AM, anyway.”

“No. He’s _mine_ ,” Castiel repeats, making his meaning clear.

“Huh,” Gabriel says. “Who would’ve thought it’d be the little virgin who would go all alpha angel on a human.”

“I… growled,” Castiel remembers belatedly, both deeply ashamed and wildly fascinated.

“We heard,” Balthazar says. “I was under the impression that angels didn’t do that anymore. When’s the last time you heard an honest to dad growl, Gabriel?”

“Hundreds of years, easily,” Gabriel answers. “Maybe he _is_ your mate.” Then he bursts out laughing. “Can you imagine Cassie meeting his mate at a Santa stripping competition? That _screams_ me, but Cassie? This is gold!”

“I don’t care where I meet him, as long as I get to talk to him,” Castiel answers.

“Oh right. _Talk to him_. That’s why your wings were doin’ the ‘come hither’ dance,” Gabriel laughs.

“You know we don’t have any control over our wings!” Castiel hisses defensively.

Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Okay, Cassie. I think it’s time for some more shots,” he says with a small laugh.

Castiel’s wings rustle with impatience, but he accepts another drink nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

“That was _so much worse_ than I thought it would be! I feel dirty!” Sam says to Dean in a hoarse whisper.

Dean laughs. “Relax, Sammy. You’ve got this in the bag. Golden wings ain’t gonna take no for an answer.”

“I’m not even into guys!” Sam explodes.

“So what? You don’t have to do anything with him. Though I will offer some friendly big brother advice: don’t knock it til you try it,” Dean smirks.

“Gross, Dean,” Sam replies. “I don’t judge other people’s choices but men are just not for me.”

“Either way, golden boy is locked down, so don’t sweat it. You could go out there and dance to Nelly and he’d still pick you.” Sam’s face quickly fills with color and Dean doesn’t get it until… “Jesus Christ, Sam, tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t know we had to pick music until I had the paper in my hand! I panicked and wrote down the first song I thought of when I thought about stripping,” Sam tries to explain.

“I have _got_ to get you out to more strip clubs,” Dean tells him. “I can’t believe I’m related to you. You’re an embarrassment to Winchesters everywhere.”

“Bite me,” Sam answers, which just makes Dean laugh. His insults haven’t improved any since he was about twelve. “What’s wrong with Nelly anyway?”

Dean laughs again, shaking his head at his brother. He’s already nervous enough though, so Dean concentrates on talking him down. “Nothin’ man, don’t worry about it. You know me, if it ain't on a tape deck under the passenger seat in Baby it ain't music.”

Sam nods his head. “Yeah. Yeah!” he repeats with more assurance. “What do _you_ know about good modern music?”

Dean mentally shudders at Nelly being called _good music_ but lets it go on account of his brother making them some money tonight.

“Did you see the angel with the big black wings?” Sam asks him suddenly.

Dean snorts. “Kinda hard to miss. Fuckin’ gorgeous wings, huh?”

Sam shrugs. “I’m not into wings the way you are, but as soon as I saw them I knew you’d be a drooling mess.”

“Fuck yes,” Dean answers quickly. “If I get my choice, I’ll be goin’ home with him tonight. Might be either way,” Dean laughs.

The change room door swings open and the bouncer leading them to the stage pops his head in, “Ready for dancer number four!”

Sam looks like a deer caught in headlights and Dean pushes him towards the door. He says under his breath so that only Sam can hear him, “If I have to come out there and rescue you, I’m takin’ photos for blackmail first. You hear me, little brother?”

Sam scowls at him as he walks through the door, “You’re such a jerk.”

“Have fun, Sammy!” Dean calls after him, laughing.

He’s gonna be fine.

 

* * *

 

“Holy shit, here he comes!” Gabriel says, his wings vibrating with excitement.

“ _Please_ , keep it in your pants, I beg of you,” Balthazar says, and that’s disturbingly close to Castiel’s thoughts as well.

The music starts and Castiel frowns.

 _Hot in, so hot in here! So hot in, hot, oh!_  
_With a little bit of, uh uh, and a little bit of, uh uh_  
_Just a little bit of, just a little bit of,_  
_Just a little bit of, just a little bit of..._

He’s never heard this song before, but it’s absolutely terrible. People call this _music_ these days?

“He picked _a classic_ , too! I am going to climb him like a tree,” Gabriel promises, his wing tips rubbing together mischievously.

Santa #4 walks onto the stage and Castiel thinks he looks rather ill. His face is a bright shade of red, his hands are visibly trembling, and Castiel wonders if he’s about to vomit on the stage. He can only imagine that would be very unpleasant to witness. The music is playing and Santa #4 hasn’t moved an inch.

The next thing he knows, Gabriel has clambered onto the stage. He's doing some sort of dance that involves far too many pelvic thrusts as far as Castiel is concerned, and starts rapping the lyrics of the song straight to Santa #4.

_“No deceiving, nothing up my sleeve and no teasing. I need you to get up up on the dance floor. Give that man what he asking for! 'Cause I feel like busting loose, and I feel like touching you!"_

Santa #4 is gaping at Gabriel like he has no idea what to do with him. Then, with a flick of Gabriel’s fingers, the sash around the Santa’s waist comes undone and his jacket falls open revealing a long, chiseled torso.

Santa #4’s jaw drops in surprise but the crowd goes wild, and he looks out into the audience and smiles nervously.

He’s cute, in a way. Reminds Castiel of a lost puppy or something.

Balthazar manages to get a hand wrapped around Gabriel’s ankle, and through a heated whispered conversation, he somehow convinces him to get off the stage. Gabriel turns to bow to the audience, which he gets a round of applause for, and then he hops off and lands in his seat gracefully.

“Did you see me? Did you see me, Cassie?” Gabriel asks excitedly.

“It would be impossible not to. Did you use your grace to get him to undo his jacket?” Castiel asks with displeasure evident in his voice.

“He just needed a little nudge,” Gabriel explains. “Now look at him!”

Castiel looks back up at the stage and sees Santa #4 is at least walking the length of it now and smiling at people as he goes.

The host booms over the microphone, “Let’s start the bidding at $100! Anybody have $100 for a few hours with Sam, Santa #4?”

Several hands are thrust into the air before Gabriel jumps to his feet. His wings spread so wide and so tall Castiel wonders how the host can even see anybody but him. Maybe that’s the point.

“ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS!” Gabriel bellows above all of the music.

He can’t tell if the host or Sam has a more amusing look of shock on his face. Both jaws are dropped, and both of them are more than likely surprised by the prominent display of Gabriel's wings and just how loud such a small angel can be.

“Gabriel,” Balthazar groans. “You’re supposed to start small and work your way up.”

“No way,” Gabriel disagrees. “The faster I have him, the more time I get to spend with him.”

Castiel can’t fault his logic.

“Okay, well, this is unprecedented!” the host finally responds. “We have a thousand dollars from the angel with the gold wings in the front. Does anybody have eleven hundred?” A distinct silence falls over the crowd. “One thousand dollars going once, going twice… sold to the golden angel in the front!”

Gabriel whoops with excitement and both Balthazar and Castiel clap for him. Santa #4 looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, but Gabriel's smiling so big he either hasn't noticed or doesn't care. Other people in the bar seem less than impressed as well, but as far as Castiel is concerned, Gabriel won fair and square. “Follow me to make your payment. And everybody else, hold onto your wallets for Santa #5!”

“Do we still have money left over?” Castiel asks Balthazar.

“The sky’s the limit,” Balthazar reminds him. “Try not to go all glowy-eyed every time somebody else bids on him, hm?”

Castiel feels possessiveness flare inside of him at even the thought, but nods nonetheless. He can control himself.

 

* * *

 

A head pokes in the door and says, “Santa #5, you’re up!”

“Can you ask the host to wait to start the bidding until the instrumental break? I kinda got a plan,” he tells the bouncer. The bouncer nods his agreement and Dean rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath. 

Here goes nothin’.

He knocks his Santa hat so it's artfully crooked on his head and then Dean walks out onto the stage to the sound of electric guitar with the best swagger he can manage. He stops to plant his feet in center stage. He folds his arms behind his back and looks down at the ground with a blank look on his face. His jacket hangs open just enough to give a glance at his chest and he hopes that works in his favor. He pops his head up with a big smile when the drums kick in, and starts walking the stage side to side, hyping up the crowd and motioning for them to get to their feet.

When the lyrics start, he shakes his shoulders to the beat and mouths the words to the crowd.

_She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean..._

He locks eyes with a woman who’s clapping along and points to her before he mouths the next words directly at her.

_She was the best damn woman I had ever seen!_

The woman catcalls and Dean throws his head back and laughs.

This is kinda fun.

He moves his body to the music and finds himself in a spin. He realizes the bottom part of his jacket twirls like a skirt, and on a stroke of genius (if you ask him, anyway), he turns his back to the audience, bends at the waist, and flicks the bottom of his jacket up to showcase his pants stretching tight across his ass. The crowd cheers loudly and Dean wiggles his ass as he laughs to himself.

He straightens up to shoot a cocky smile over his shoulder before he turns back to face the audience.

_Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air..._

He starts tugging on the tie of his sash, making the crowd think he’s going to take it off, and they go wild… until he stops. Groans and shouts of unhappiness make their way to Dean’s ears and he holds his hands up, feigning confusion.

“What?” he asks the crowd.

“TAKE IT OFF!” somebody shouts.

He laughs again and wiggles his hips to the beat of the drums. He finally lets himself look down at the angel in front of him when he pulls the sash undone slowly and lets his jacket fall open to reveal his bare torso.

_'Cause the walls start shaking. The earth was quaking..._

The angel’s wings are trembling and Dean maintains eye contact while he runs his hands slowly down his chest.

_My mind was aching, and we were making it..._

He licks his lips and thrusts his hips forwards on:

_and you. You shook me all night long._

Dean shakes his arms and lets the jacket slide off his shoulders slowly.

_Yeah, you shook me all night long._

 

* * *

 

“Are you still breathing, Castiel?” Balthazar asks him, laughing at what Castiel knows must be a look of intense pleasure on his face.

Castiel ignores him.

He’s never seen a body as gorgeous as Santa #5’s. His chest is broad and smooth with dusty pink nipples, and his torso is defined with lines of muscle, while still having a little bit of a soft middle. Castiel vividly imagines himself pillowing his face on the soft flesh while fingers stroke through his own hair before he moves his lips down, down, down…

_Working double time on the seduction line. She was one of a kind, she's just mine all mine..._

Castiel is dragging his eyes over the bulging muscles in Santa #5’s arms and suddenly flinches when Santa #5’s hat is thrown directly in his face. He quickly feels a smile spread across his lips when he realizes that Santa #5 threw _him_ his hat out of everybody else in the crowd. Balthazar grabs it from his hands and pulls it onto Castiel’s head, which makes Castiel glare at him, but Balthazar motions back to the stage.

Right. He doesn't want to miss any of this!

Castiel’s mouth drops open when he sees Santa #5 hop down off of the stage and start making his way through the crowd. Already on his feet, Castiel cranes his neck to keep an eye on him, ready and willing to fly over to assist him if he’s met with any issues.  
  
_Made a meal out of me and came back for more. Had to cool me down to take another round. Now I'm back in the ring to take another swing..._

Castiel tries to control his jealousy as he sees strangers run their hands over his muscular shoulders and back, but his wings are flaring wider and he has to fight down the impulse to _claim him_ so everybody else knows not to touch him. Santa #5 runs quickly to the back of the room, all the way across and back down the opposite side of the stage he started on.

_'Cause the walls were shaking, the earth was quaking, my mind was aching, and we were making it and you…_

The next thing he knows, Santa #5 is back on center stage and quickly unbuckling the bulky black belt at his waist. He turns around with his back to the crowd, and he whips the belt off as the chorus kicks in again.

_Shook me all night long!_

Castiel’s jaw drops almost in time with Santa #5’s pants, which were evidently only being held up by the belt. Underneath his pants he’s wearing skin-tight, incredibly tiny, shiny red shorts. Castiel’s mouth goes completely dry when he sees the way the fabric cups the two perfectly round globes of his butt and Castiel feels whatever blood wasn’t already pooling between his legs make its way there quickly.

 

* * *

 

 

_You shook me all night long!_

Dean begins the awkward job of getting his pants off over his boots, hoping the way his ass looks in these booty shorts is enough of a distraction for the crowd. Judging by the roar of screams he can still hear, he’s thinking he’s doing just fine.

He turns back around to approach the angel like he’s been wanting to all night. He _really_ needs to make sure this guy bids on him.

_And knocked me out and then you... Shook me all night long!_

He hops off the front of the stage again and then he’s only a few feet away from him. He walks towards the angel slowly and runs his tongue along his bottom lip.

_You had me shakin' and you..._

He takes the angel’s hands in his own and encourages him to run them up and down his chest and stomach.

_Shook me all night long!_

 

* * *

 

Castiel can hardly breathe.

His hands are drifting over what seems like miles of smooth, tanned skin. The man’s body is hard with muscles and Castiel’s senses are going into overdrive with the heady scent of this man. He’s glistening with sweat from the lights and running all over the stage and through the crowd and he smells _divine_. Castiel’s wings are quivering with the desire to wrap this beautiful man inside of them and shield him from the eyes of anybody else. This man is _his_ and his wings and his grace knows it as much as his heart and his essence.

Then the man leans his head towards him and says in a surprisingly deep voice, “Let me feel those feathers on me, handsome.”

Castiel doesn’t know how he doesn’t find his release from those words alone.

His wings flare with excitement and they curl forwards to run gently down his spine. The man steps even closer and Castiel tips his head down to press his nose to the side of his neck and breathes in, taking a deep breath of the best scent he’s ever encountered. He feels the man’s breath hitch and his wings wrap around them both, cocooning them alone together.

His wings block out some of the noise and most of the bright light, and he hears a moan ripple through the man’s throat. It’s the single most sexy sound Castiel has ever heard. Castiel lifts his head to take a better look at him and when their eyes meet in the secluded space created by his wings he sees the man’s pupils blown larger, hopefully with desire. Castiel lets out a soft whine feeling his grace rippling under his skin, desperate to get to this man.

 _Mine. Mate. Mine, mine, matematemate_.

“Son of a bitch,” the man says, breathless. His hand cups the back of Castiel’s neck to pull him in and Castiel’s eyes slip closed as his lips part for him.

“Alright, let’s get Santa #5 back up on the stage,” the host announces.

Castiel feels a growl begin but Santa #5 pats his cheek and smiles at him. He’s _beautiful_.

The man says, “I’m comin’ back for you, angel,” and suddenly the growl turns into a purr even as the man walks away to climb back onto the stage.

“Let’s start the bidding here for Dean at $100,” the host says, pointing at Santa #5 - Dean, apparently. He feels a rush through his body at the sound of his name but his head feels foggy with the shots he drank making their way through his system.

Castiel turns to see _dozens_ of hands in the air.

“I think he likes you, bro,” Gabriel says from beside him.

Gabriel? Castiel turns his head towards him and sees him standing there with Santa #4 who has a look of utter disgust on his face. Castiel vaguely registers the sound of the host upping the bid over and over quickly.

“I can never unsee this,” Santa #4 says.

“Do we have $700?” the host asks, and still, many, many hands are in the air.

“This is Dean’s brother,” Gabriel explains.

His mate’s family! Castiel thrusts his hand forwards. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Castiel.”

“Sam,” Sam answers, smiling. “I hope you’re bidding on my brother because he’s totally into you.”

“I think the rather lovely bulge in those little red shorts was already broadcasting that not so little secret,” Balthazar says.

Castiel whips his head towards the stage again and sees that Balthazar is right. Dean’s certainly filling out those shorts differently than he was before he approached him. Castiel’s desire increases tenfold. He wants him, too. Does he feel the connection between them the way Castiel does?

“Oh my god,” Sam says, turning around completely so his back is to the stage. “I knew he had a thing for wings, but jeez. Nobody wants to see that.”

“Based on all the hands up in the air, I think you’re wrong about that, sweet cheeks,” Gabriel answers. Castiel notices absentmindedly that Sam’s cheeks _do_ go a little red.

“$1,000. Anybody have $1,100?” the host shouts out.

Castiel turns to see hands still in the air. This is getting tedious.

“$1,500,” Castiel says. He doesn’t shout because he doesn’t need to. His voice is low and it carries well.

Dean looks down at him and smiles.

Castiel tries to pretend his heart doesn’t tumble in his chest.

The host looks down at him and nods his head. “$1,500. $1,600?”

“$1,600,” a woman’s voice calls from the back of the crowd.

Castiel can feel his wings twitch in irritation. “$2,500,” he replies.

There’s an abrupt silence throughout the room for a split second before Gabriel’s voice echoes through the room, “Ho, ho, ho-ly shit!”

Castiel shakes his head at his brother but he hears Dean, Sam, and a few other people laugh at Gabriel’s exuberance.

“Well said,” the host agrees. “I’ve got $2,500. Going once… going twice… sold to the angel with the Santa hat for $2,500. You know the drill, feathers.”

Dean hops off the stage and gets only inches away from Castiel before he says, “I’m gonna go get some clothes on, and I’ll meet you at the bar.” Castiel's face falls and Dean laughs. “Don’t worry - I’m leavin’ these bad boys on for later,” he says, giving his own ass a smack as he walks away. Castiel's eyes follow him hungrily.

"I can’t believe he just made that much money. I am never going to hear the end of this,” Sam complains.

Gabriel passes Castiel a credit card. “Here you go, little brother. Something tells me this is gonna be the best purchase you ever made.”

Now that Castiel has won a few hours of Dean’s time he’s beginning to feel nervous. “What am I supposed to do with him?” Castiel asks Gabriel in a panic.

“Buy him a drink,” Sam cuts in. He has an amused smile on his face when he continues, “I’m pretty sure Dean will take it from there.”

“Thank you,” Castiel tells him sincerely. “I need to go make my payment. Perhaps I will see you after our drink.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Gabriel answers. “We’re blowing this popsicle stand, right Sam-a-lama-ding-dong?”

“Please don’t talk about my… ding dong…” Sam says carefully, and Castiel hides his smile as Gabriel hoots with laughter.

“It was nice to meet you,” Castiel says to Sam. “Gabriel - _behave_ ,” he warns him before he folds in his wings and turns to make his way towards the bar and the host standing behind it.

“Cash or credit?” the man asks him. Castiel holds out the card and the man takes it before he swipes it. “I would’ve been surprised if you didn’t up the bid after he made you run your hands all over him. I have to give it to him. He’s not as dumb as he looks.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Castiel asks the man, bristling at the insult on behalf of his mate.

“Everybody knows angels are rich, feathers. Dean had you eating out of the palm of his hand from the second he saw those wings of yours.”

Castiel feels something sour in his stomach, but he ignores it while he signs his name to the slip of paper the host slid across to him.

“Enjoy,” the man says with a tip of his head.

Castiel can’t find it in him to thank him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wing kink brought to you by request from my friend, Charity.

After stepping into a perfectly worn pair of jeans, pulling a vee neck t-shirt over his head and deciding to forego his usual flannel, he ruffles his hair into disorder the way he likes it the most and leaves the dressing room to begin his search for the big black wings he’s already itching to touch.

The feel of them ghosting down his back was everything he’s always known he’s been looking for and he can’t wait to feel them wrapped around him again. As long as the angel’s down for that, of course. Which, based on the way he was waiting for him to kiss him a little while ago, Dean would wager he probably is.

But that… that _thing_ he felt simmering between them? Holy fuck. That took what Dean thought was initial attraction to a whole other level.

What a fucking rush.

He sees his angel - no, _the_ angel, he corrects - sitting on a stool at the far end of the bar. Nobody’s sitting anywhere close to him, probably because his wings span the seats on either side of him. Dean can hardly wait to sit beside him and maybe let one of them brush against his shoulders. He feels a shiver run through his body at just the thought.

He approaches the angel and gives him one of his most charming smiles. “Hey, man,” he says to him.

“Hello, Dean,” the angel responds with a stony face. Huh.

“This seat taken?” he asks.

The angel seems to consider a moment before he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Dean slides into the stool next to him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Dean asks.

“I’ve already had several, but I did enjoy the tube beverages,” he responds.

“I can get you a couple of those. Least I can do after you spent so much money on a night with me,” Dean smiles. “What’s your name, anyway? I’m more than happy callin’ you angel all night, but I’d like to get to know you a lot better than that.”

“My name is Castiel,” he answers.

 _Castiel_. For whatever reason, the name sends a shiver through him. “I like it,” Dean says quickly.

“Your soul…” Castiel begins, before he seems to hear what he’s just said, and then he stops.

“My soul?” Dean repeats. “Wait. Can angels _see_ souls?”

“Not all of them. But yours, Dean. It’s… it’s the single brightest soul I have ever laid eyes on. It’s absolutely stunning.”

Dean feels a blush stain his cheeks. His soul is stunning? He really frickin’ doubts that. “No offence Castiel, but I think you might need your eyes checked, dude.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel replies, his eyes squinted now.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean waves away. He’s not about to get into _that_ now anyway. “That why you bid on me? Because of my soul?”

“In part,” Castiel answers cryptically. “Did you only want me to because I’m an angel?”

“In part,” Dean echoes, and then he grins at Castiel.

The bartender approaches and Dean orders himself a beer and a shot of whisky, and gets Castiel two of the tubey things. He holds his shot glass up once it's filled and Castiel just looks at him.

“Cheers?” Dean prompts him.

“Of course,” Castiel says quickly, tapping their drinks together. They make eye contact before they tip their glasses down and place them back on the bar.

Castiel isn’t looking at him anymore and Dean tries shake off the unexpectedly harsh feeling of rejection.

“Gotta say, Castiel, I thought you’d be a little more enthusiastic ‘bout spending time with me after you bid so high,” Dean admits, taking a swig from his beer can.

“That was before it was pointed out to me that you only paid special attention to me because of my money.”

Dean almost chokes on his beer. “ _What?_ Why the hell would you think that?”

“That… is what the host told me,” Castiel explains, seeming surprised by Dean’s question.

Dean scoffs. “What the fuck does that guy know? I told you I was comin’ back for you before you even bid, remember?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, eyebrows drawn together. “So the host was lying? Why would he do that?”

“Fuck if I know. But I’m tellin’ you, I was comin’ over with my number no matter who bid on me. I don’t give a shit about your money, dude,” Dean repeats.

“Then… why? Why focus on me?” Castiel asks.

“Have you _seen_ you? Your wings alone are the most gorgeous fuckin’ thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. But add in that sex hair of yours and those bright blue eyes and the chemistry or whatever it is between us and I don’t even stand a chance at stayin’ away from you.”

Dean notices that Castiel’s wings are fluffing up behind him and he can’t help but look over his shoulder to eye them.

“I apologize,” Castiel says quickly. “We don't have any control over our wings‘ reactions.”

That's interesting! “What’s it mean when they get all puffy like that?”

“I’m… pleased,” Castiel seems to settle on.

Dean smirks. “Yeah? What did I say that’s pleasin’ to you, angel?”

They puff up again and Dean grins wider.

“I am surprised that you aren’t repelled by my wings,” Castiel answers.

Dean’s eyes go wide. “Repelled? No fuckin’ way! They’re hot as fuck.”

Castiel’s wings rise higher into the air and the tips are fluttering now.

“My apologies,” Castiel says again. “I appear to react quite strongly to you.”

“You ain’t alone in that,” Dean promises with a wink. Castiel’s face flushes and Dean scoots his stool a little closer.

Castiel knocks back his second shot and Dean follows suit to take another drink from his beer.

His eyes drift closed when he feels a wing settle gently across his back. It’s warm, like a blanket has just been draped around him, and he leans back into it instinctively. He’s surprised that it seems to take his weight easily. His wing is undeniably alive and almost humming with some kind of energy against his skin. It’s incredibly comforting and the feathers are even softer than he could have imagined. He wants to burrow inside of these wings and never come back out.

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Castiel says, obviously flustered.

“Does it look like I’m complainin’?” Dean asks. “Listen, no use tryin’ to deny it, okay? I kinda got a thing for wings.”

“They arouse you,” Castiel says.

Dean huffs out a bit of a laugh. _That’s_ an understatement. “That obvious, huh?”

“I am able to tell, yes. Are you sexually attracted to this body?” Castiel asks.

“Your body, you mean?” Dean repeats.

“I suppose, for all intents and purposes, this is my body now, yes.”

“What’s that mean?” Dean asks. This guy’s more than a little strange.

Castiel hesitates for a moment before he asks, “What do you know about angels, Dean?”

“Almost nothing. I’ve been tryin’ to learn about them my whole life but there’s almost no information available about them anywhere and I’ve been lookin’ _a lot_.”

“In order for angels to come down to earth, we must find a vessel - a container if you will. Our true forms are several times larger than human bodies, but with the right vessel, we can comfortably stay for thousands of years,” Castiel explains.

Dean breezes right past the thousands of years part because he can’t exactly wrap his head around that right now. “How did you find this vessel, then?”

“A gift from my father for... my choices,” Castiel answers after a small pause. “Just over a decade ago.”

“Is there, uh, a person or soul or somethin’ inside of there that ain’t you?” Dean asks.

“No. Only my true form.”

“Is it weird for you if I say I think the vessel you’re in is… attractive?” Dean checks before he answers.

Castiel tilts his head to the side and purses his lips. “No,” he says carefully. “Perhaps at one time it might have been, but I have been walking on earth long enough now that I am at home in this vessel. I feel as if it is truly a part of me.”

“Then, yeah, Cas. I think you’re sexy as hell,” Dean answers quickly.

“I am also sexually attracted to your body,” Castiel says, though he looks at his hands instead of Dean when he says it.

“Really glad to hear that, angel.”

Dean reaches over between them to place his hand high on Castiel’s thigh, checking to see his reaction to being touched.

“Dean, have you ever heard of true mates?” Castiel asks quietly, surprising the hell outta him.

“Like in the angel movies?” Dean asks. Castiel nods his head. “Sure. Everybody’s seen those. Angels see their mate, sparks fly, and then you mate for life, right?”

“That is a condensed version with some inaccuracies, but basically, yes.” Castiel meets his eyes and continues with his voice soft, “I do not wish to frighten you, but if I’m not mistaken… I believe you belong to me. You are my true mate.”

A thrill of excitement and a sense of _knowing_ spreads through his body as Dean’s eyes go wide. What the fuck? He doesn’t even know this dude. How can they be true mates?

“How do you know?” Dean asks with his heart beating frantically.

“Tell me… do you feel anything from my wings?”

Dean swallows. “Y-yeah. Like, uh, energy of some kind. Vibrating almost, but, uh, smooth instead of shaky.”

“Anything else?” Castiel prompts.

“Warmth,” Dean answers. “Comfort. Belonging, kinda. And, well, the attraction thing I mentioned before.”

“If another angel placed his wings upon you, you wouldn’t feel those things,” Castiel explains. “It’s my grace and our bond. My grace recognizes its true mate and wants to be closer to you.”

“How do I know you’re not making it up?” Dean asks.

“I could call my brother Balthazar over to confirm what I’ve said, if you like. I don’t particularly like the thought of you touching another angel’s wings -" Dean notices the wing on his shoulder stiffens - “but I would understand if you would like to feel the difference for yourself.”

This is crazy. Sure, he feels some kind of connection with Castiel, but it’s _chemistry_ or sexual tension or some shit, not this true mates crap. How can he possibly be true mates with an angel after the kind of life he’s lived? If Castiel knew the things he has done in the past he’d be disgusted with him.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here,” Dean admits.

“I understand it’s a lot to take in. I appreciate the fact that you’re still here at all. It would cause me a great deal of pain to be separated from you now that I know you exist.”

Well shit. Dean doesn’t wanna hurt the dude.

“What, uh, what does this feel like for you?”

“Like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. Like my wings were created for the sole purpose of cradling you within them. Like I was never meant to be without you.”

Dean exhales quickly, his mind spinning. He doesn’t want to think about the way his insides inflate just hearing Castiel say those words about him, but it feels _amazing_. “Shit, Cas, this is heavy.”

“I understand. I never would have told you so quickly if I didn’t think you were about to proposition me for sexual intercourse. I don’t want to take advantage of the connection between us to get you into bed,” Castiel says honestly.

 _Sexual intercourse_. Who even talks like that? Still, his head is still spinning. He doesn’t know what he thinks about this true mate shit, but he _does_ know that his cock is half hard thinking about being closer to Castiel and feeling more of these wings on him.

“What if I still want to have sexual intercourse anyway?” Dean says, smiling around the ridiculous words coming out of his mouth.

“I couldn’t even begin to refuse you, Dean.”

Dean picks up his can of beer again and gulps down the rest of the can. “You got some place we can go?”

Castiel nods his head. “My home is seven miles away. I can take us there if you’d like?”

“Yeah, Cas, I’d like that,” Dean answers, smiling at him invitingly.

Castiel’s hand comes up towards his face, two fingers touch him in the middle of the forehead, and he feels a sharp tug behind his navel. He has a split second to think he’s going to barf, and then he opens his eyes to see that he’s standing in the middle of an unfamiliar room.

“What the -“ Dean asks, looking around with his eyes wide. “What’d you do? Fuckin’ zap us here or something?”

Castiel’s eyebrows draw together. “I flew us here.”

“ _You can fly!?_ ” Dean asks, which he recognizes as the dumbest question he’s ever asked the second it comes out of his mouth. He has wings. Of course he can fly! But nobody’s ever _seen_ an angel fly! This is insane.

“I’m an angel of the lord, Dean, of course I can fly,” Castiel answers immediately. His wings reach out towards Dean and curl around him almost like they’re protecting him, but Dean notices they don’t actually touch him. “I can sense that you’re frightened, and I would very much like to help you,” Castiel tries to explain.

“Help me how?”

“My wings will soothe you if you want them to,” Castiel explains.

Dean takes a deep breath. How can he say no to those wings already knowing how good one feels just draped across his back?

“Show me.”

Castiel’s wings tighten around him and pull him in towards his body. The moment his wings make contact with the bare skin of his arms Dean feels warmth rush through his body and his eyes drift closed. The fear he was feeling a few seconds ago is completely gone, and all he can feel now is is soft feathers. All he can hear is the sound of their hearts beating, and all he can smell is… _Castiel_. The scent of the forest after it’s just rained. Earth, and trees, and grass and leaves, and just a hint of ozone, like what remains in the air after a storm. He feels himself relax further and he moves towards the smell instinctively, cradling his head in the dip of Castiel’s shoulder where his nose can rest on his neck.

Castiel’s arms come around him tentatively at first, and then he feels his hands on his back, warm even through his shirt. It feels fuckin’ perfect. Everything’s perfect.

“Mmmm, Cas,” Dean moans, placing his hands on Castiel’s strong chest.

A sound almost like a purr begins in Castiel’s chest, and the sound makes Dean smile. It’s so calming. Dean doesn’t ever want to leave this space. This is where he always wants to be.  

He tries to move in impossibly closer. He presses his body flush against Castiel’s, seeking more of his warmth and that scent. His hands move up to loop around Castiel’s neck. He noses against the flesh of his throat, wanting _more_ of the smell that seems to be emanating from there, and before he’s even thought about it, his tongue darts out to taste his skin.

_Oh my god._

_More._

The purr in Castiel’s chest kicks up a notch and Dean can feel it vibrating against his own chest. He licks against that spot on his neck again, making a needy little sound, and then opens his mouth to get his lips and teeth on that delicious skin again, trailing open-mouthed kisses across the column of his throat searching for more of that perfect taste.

Castiel lets his head fall back on a moan, exposing more skin for Dean to feast on and Dean dives in eagerly.

Then Castiel is gone.

Dean gasps at the cold air he feels against his skin now, and takes in a deep breath of air that _doesn’t_ smell like Castiel and notices for the first time his cock is painfully hard between his legs. He spins around and sees Castiel as far across the room as he can possibly get pressed with his back against the wall.

His wings are fluttering wildly, his face is flushed a deep red, and even from here, Dean can see the tent in his pants.

“Cas?” Dean asks, and his voice comes out raw and hoarse.

 

* * *

 

Castiel was only seconds away from using his grace to remove Dean’s clothing before bending him over the arm of his couch so he could fuck into him hard and fast when he realized Dean didn’t _say_ he wants this. Dean didn’t consent. Dean is so overwhelmed by the connection between them that he was acting instinctively without thinking about the consequences.

“My apologies, Dean,” Castiel says, his voice twice as rough as Dean’s. “I didn’t know you would react to me so strongly.”

“What - what the fuck was that?” Dean asks still breathing hard.

“The connection between us. We _are_ true mates, Dean. I’m certain of it. Everything about me is _made_ to draw you in, to make you want me, to make you react the way you just did.”

“The - the way you smell, man. It’s like… like a fucking drug. I got one whiff of you and wanted more, and then I was _tasting you_ because I - _I had to_ and it was the best fucking thing in the whole world.”

Castiel can feel his wings pulsing with desire the more Dean talks.

“Dean,” Castiel tries to say as a warning. “I believe it’s in your best interest to leave. Immediately.”

Dean’s hand lifts to his chest as if he’s in pain there. “You want me to go?”

“No!” Castiel exclaims. He can feel Dean’s pain at what he believes is a rejection in the core of his very being. “I don’t _want_ you to go. I am ashamed to admit it, but I am unsure how long I am going to be able to stay away from you if you stay.”

“Fuck,” Dean gasps. He swallows, and Castiel zeros in on the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You want me?”

“More than I knew I could ever want anything,” Castiel tells him.

“Well, what - what if I don’t want you to stay away from me then?” Dean asks, meeting his eyes from across the room.

Castiel inhales sharply. “Once I have you, you won’t ever want to be with anybody else. It will only be me. Forever,” Castiel warns him.

There’s a pause. A long pause where Castiel begins to wonder if he’s actually going to be able to let Dean walk out of his home when he tells him no.

Finally, Dean says, “I... don’t think I care.”

Castiel’s wings are already reaching out to him desperately, but he presses his back against the wall behind him harder. “Dean,” Castiel breathes. “You must be absolutely certain. I don’t know if I can control myself once I touch you again.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Dean says softly. “I _know_ you won’t. I trust you, and... I want you, Cas. I want you to touch me so fucking bad.”

Castiel closes the distance between them in a heartbeat.

His wings wrap around him to pull him back where he belongs - with him, _always_ with him - and he cups Dean’s face in his hands gently before he pulls his lips down to meet his. The first touch of their lips together is like an explosion of sensation throughout Castiel’s entire body.

 _Mine mine mine mine mine mine_ is running through his head, and it’s all he can do to keep his hands gentle and soft when his instincts are telling him _mark claim mark claim mine mine mine_.

Dean’s lips press back against his more urgently, slotting their lips together perfectly, and Castiel feels his wings quivering with excitement and desire.

With a thought, Castiel has them landing in his bedroom, and he’s certain Dean doesn’t even know they’ve flown. He feels Dean’s tongue wet and warm across the seam of his lips, and his mouth opens to him eagerly. Dean’s tongue slides into the heat of his mouth and Castiel whimpers when their tongues meet for the first time. He feels Dean’s tongue press against his softly before pulling away, and his own tongue follows it, chasing the sensation until they meet again and again, sliding together in a flawless dance that has Castiel’s entire being throbbing with lust.

Dean pulls his mouth away to take in a breath of air and Castiel opens his eyes to devour the sight of his mate. His lips are spit slicked and kiss swollen, and Castiel has never seen anything so stunningly beautiful before.

“Can I touch your wings, Cas?” Dean rasps.

“ _Please_ ,” Castiel begs.

They spread out behind him, stretched wide in invitation and to show off his wing span, but relaxed so that they’ll be as soft as possible for Dean’s hands to cord through. He feels his oil glands already getting heavy with anticipation.

“Will it hurt you?” Dean asks.

Castiel reaches out his hand to cup his mate’s face. “You won’t hurt me,” he says gently, echoing Dean’s earlier words back at him. “My feathers are very strong. Nobody’s ever touched them the way you’re about to.”

“Nobody?” Dean asks. “How come?”

“I was waiting for you,” Castiel explains, smiling softly.

Dean takes in a deep breath and then exhales slowly. “So I can just…?” Dean reaches out a hand and tentatively runs it across the top of Castiel’s wing, as if he’s petting a wild animal instead of caressing his mate’s wings for the first time.

Castiel feels the innumerable nerve endings in his wings come to life, buzzing with arousal and grace.

“God they’re soft. Feels amazing,” Dean whispers. His hand opens up and his fingers drag through his feathers shallowly, but even that has Castiel’s mouth falling open and his breath coming out in a pant. “Does it feel good, angel?”

Castiel’s wings quiver from both Dean’s touch and the endearment, and his eyes find Dean, smiling shyly at him. “Phenomenal,” he tells him.

Dean takes a step closer to his body and Castiel feels his eyes drift closed. Having Dean’s body so close to him is sublime and he gasps softly when he feels Dean’s lips brush against his sensitive scent glands before he can feel the wet heat of his mouth tasting his skin again.

Dean moans against his skin, “Mmm, Castiel. Smell so fucking good. Feel so good. So perfect.”

Castiel realizes belatedly that his hands are on Dean’s hips, gripping them tight and holding Dean against his body where he can feel the long line of his erection pressed into his hip. Dean’s hand digs deeper into his wing and Castiel’s head falls back in pure ecstasy. Another sound of pleasure ripples through his chest and between his parted lips as the sharp sting of Dean sucking a mark against his neck causes his oil glands to begin to saturate the base of his wings. He thinks about using his wing oil to open Dean up and he whimpers at the thought.

The wing not currently being caressed by Dean’s magic fingers curls towards him, brushing over Dean’s back with the tips of his feathers. Dean arches his back into them and Castiel smiles at the sight of his feathers on his mate.

“ _Fuck_ that feels good,” Dean groans.

Castiel’s hands move up under Dean’s shirt, pushing it up as he goes, exposing more and more skin until Dean lifts his arms and Castiel can pull it off completely. His wings and his hands both move over the bare skin eagerly. Dean’s in excellent physical shape and Castiel’s transfixed by the way his strong back, rippled with muscle beneath his hands, is so stimulating.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel moans. _Mate_.

 

* * *

 

Dean crushes his lips against Castiel’s, unable to wait another moment without tasting him again. He licks into his mouth and groans when the more potent flavor of _Castiel_ fills his senses. God, he’s perfect. The way his hands feel roaming over his back, the sounds he makes when he touches him, his wings strong and thrumming against his skin. Dean wants more - wants everything - in a desperate way he’s never wanted it before.

He breaks their kiss long enough to say, “Wanna see you.”

Reluctantly, he removes his hand from where it’s buried again in Castiel’s incredibly soft feathers to push the trench coat and suit jacket off of Castiel’s shoulders at once. He hooks his finger in the knot of Castiel’s tie and pulls until it’s loose enough to slip up over his head. He loses several seconds when Castiel moves in for another kiss and his wings stroke down his back. When he comes back to himself he kisses his way down Castiel’s neck while his fingers struggle to work on the buttons of his shirt, slowly revealing one inch of sun-kissed skin at a time. Finally, they’re all undone, and Dean pushes the dress shirt over his shoulders, running his hands down the bare skin of his arms until he gets to his wrists, where he pauses to undo the tiny buttons there. His shirt falls away and Dean takes a step back to rake his eyes along every inch of his angel’s muscular body.

He’s smaller than Dean, but his body is lithe and radiates strength nonetheless. His shoulders are strong and well muscled, and Dean runs his fingers through the soft curly hair on his chest, down the dark trail that creates a path between two of the most sinful hipbones Dean’s ever laid his eyes on.

“So gorgeous, Cas,” Dean praises him.

Castiel begins to walk towards him, backing him up with each step, and Dean realizes for the first time they’re in a different room they were in before, and that he’s being pushed towards a huge, four-poster bed with billowing white curtains on it.

Castiel’s mouth nips and kisses along Dean’s neck just before Dean feels Castiel’s hands find the button on his fly, and his breath hitches when he pops it open. His fingers are on his zipper, but right after he drags his teeth over Dean’s skin causing shivers to break out all over his body, he pulls away and looks deep into Dean’s eyes.

“Do you want to stop?” Castiel asks him.

“No, don’t stop,” Dean answers quickly.

He thinks he might actually die if he stops.

“I am aching for you, my love,” Castiel whispers to him as he pulls his fly down, and while a part of him knows he should balk at the words, he’s filled with an all encompassing sense of belonging instead.

“I'm yours, angel,” Dean hears himself answer, and again, warmth and happiness consumes him.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel breathes, his smile almost blinding him.

What wouldn’t Dean do to cause his angel to smile at him this way?

The thought is wiped from his mind completely when Castiel dips his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and pulls both his jeans and his little red shorts down all at once. So much for leaving them on for fun.

Then Castiel is on his knees in front of him, pulling his shoes and socks off, and Dean’s mouth goes dry when he looks down to see the top of his head between his legs, his wings curling forwards to surround them both.

“Fuck,” he gasps. Just the _idea_ of his angel on his knees in front of him is almost more than he can take.

Dean’s completely out of his jeans and booty shorts now, and Castiel throws them to the side quickly. Then Dean feels warm hands running up the back of his legs, ghosting over the tiny hairs there and making Dean shiver. His hands move up to the back of his thighs, his fingers trailing along the insides, causing Dean to widen his stance naturally, until Castiel has his hands cupping his asscheeks gently.

“So perfect,” Castiel says reverently, kneading his fingers into his asscheeks.

His head lowers towards Dean’s bobbing erection and Dean feels like his heart is going to hammer right out of his chest. Dean watches raptly as Castiel kisses along the strip of skin between his belly button and where his pubic hair begins, then down, centimeter by centimeter, driving him _crazy_ until his lips and his nose nuzzle their way into the wiry hair. Dean’s hands come up to grip the back of Castiel’s neck, cupping it gently, thumb tracing over his jaw. He feels Castiel's warm lips on the base of his cock, and Castiel angles his head so Dean can see him kissing around his length chastely, his hands still groping his ass.

“So beautiful,” Castiel murmurs.

“Cas - uh - _fuck_ \- condom, man,” Dean manages to say.

“Not necessary. Angels cannot contract any human ailments. There will be nothing between us tonight, my love,” Castiel promises.

“ _S_ _hit_ ,” Dean pants, cock throbbing from Castiel’s words.

Dean sees a knowing smile spread on Castiel’s face before he opens his mouth and lets his tongue join his lips, trailing wet kisses towards the flushed head of his cock. When his tongue laps against his frenulum, Dean can’t help the low moan that’s wrung out of him. His fingers tighten in the short hairs on the base of Castiel’s neck and Castiel’s wings lift higher around him.

“My wings, Dean. Touch my wings,” Castiel pleads.

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. His fingers dive into the soft plumage just as Castiel’s lips close around the tip of his cock and Castiel swirls his tongue around him.

“Fuuuck,” Dean groans, his fingers clenching around the feathers reflexively. Castiel moans with his dick still in his mouth, and Dean echoes the sound as he feels Castiel tonguing at his slit. Distantly, he registers it must feel good for Cas when he digs his fingers in his wings if he’s moaning, so he gives a gentle tug and elicits another louder moan from him. Castiel slides his lips along his length, taking more of him into his mouth, and Dean makes his own sound of pleasure in response.

His eyes slipped closed and he can hear the sound of Castiel’s feathers ruffling, the wet slurping of Castiel sucking and slipping along his cock, and the reverberating sounds of pleasure coming from both of them. He feels Castiel’s jaw loosen and then his cock is pressed down the tight tunnel of his throat and Dean gasps with overwhelming pleasure.

“Cas, Cas, _god Cas_ , so good, angel,” Dean babbles, running his hands through his wings, getting closer and closer to where they attach at his back. His fingers wrap around his shoulder joints and he tugs, pulling Castiel closer to his body, and ultimately losing his balance and falling back onto the bed behind him.

Castiel is up on his feet and pushing him back towards the middle of the bed almost instantly. Castiel’s arm wraps around his middle and he pulls him up the bed like he weighs nothing, making Dean’s stomach flip with unprecedented arousal. He feels the first shocking press of skin to skin as Castiel settles on top of him, slotting their erections together, and he blinks in confusion. “When’d you take off your pants?”

“Grace, Dean,” Castiel answers.

“You - what - zapped your pants away?” Dean repeats, struggling to think through the fog of desire clouding his brain.

“Do you want me to put them back on?” Castiel asks in confusion.

Dean rolls his hips upwards in response, causing sparks of friction between their naked cocks, and Castiel quickly presses back into him, making them both groan. Castiel’s mouth covers Dean’s, and he loses himself in another unbelievable kiss while they rut together seamlessly.

 

* * *

 

Castiel doesn’t want to break their kiss but his instincts are _screaming_ at him to scent his mate, which he hasn’t done yet. He drags his lips away from those perfectly plump lips of Dean’s and nibbles his way across the sharp slash of his jaw, feeling Dean’s stubble catch against his own, until he finds the sweetest smelling spot on his neck. Dean doesn’t have scent glands, of course, but still, his scent is strongest at his pulse point.

Castiel nuzzles into it, inhaling the dizzying aroma of his mate. It reminds him of a hot summer day. The scent of the sun on skin, of the beach, with just a hint of a cool summer breeze. _Perfection_. Castiel breathes deep, letting the scent fill his senses, before he rubs his cheek against Dean’s neck firmly, transferring some of his own scent onto his skin where it belongs. He breathes in again, smells the beginning of their scents mingling, and opens his mouth to suck a mark into his skin.

 _Mine_ , Castiel thinks for the hundredth time. Everything inside of him is urging at him to bite, to mark, _to claim_ his mate, but Castiel settles for the taste of his mate under his lips and against his tongue.

Dean is trying to get closer to his neck as well, turning his head towards him to better inhale his scent. When Castiel finally tears his lips away from Dean’s throat - vibrating with pleasure when he sees his mark on his mate’s neck where it belongs - he turns his head so that Dean can scent them together on Castiel’s cheek.

“Oh god, oh god, _Cas,_ fuck,” Dean groans, pressing his nose hard against Castiel’s cheek and kissing him there over and over, his tongue darting out to taste them together. Dean’s fingers are gripping at his neck, holding him place roughly so he doesn’t move away. “So fucking good, Cas. More, baby, more _please_ ,” Dean begs.

 _Bite him!_ his instincts roar at him. _Bite him to mix our scents, to allow them to bond, to compliment each other the way they’re meant to. Give your mate everything he wants._

“Dean, my heart, may I - I want to be inside of you,” Castiel says through his gritted teeth.

“Unnnghh, _yes_ angel. Fuck yes,” Dean answers.

Castiel reaches behind him with one arm and finally presses two fingers to his oil glands. He doesn’t need to squeeze at all. He barely brushes them before his fingers are coated in his oil.

“Can I use my oil with you, Dean?” Castiel remembers to ask.

“Oil?” Dean pants. He blinks several times. “Oil from what?”

“My wings,” Castiel answers. “We use wing oil to groom our feathers. I’d like to use it to prepare you for intercourse.”

 

* * *

 

 _Wing oil?_ Dean thinks. He didn’t even know such a thing existed. Is it effective enough for anal play?

Dean’s hand comes out to grip Castiel’s hand in his, and he slides his finger along the slickness of Castiel’s fingers coated in his oil.

 _Oh!_ That feels fantastic. Warm and slippery and - and then Dean’s eyes roll back in his head as he gets a much stronger whiff of Castiel’s scent. It must be coming from the oil! Dean’s hands are bringing his fingers closer to his face to inhale the scent, and _yes, oh god, yes_ that’s the scent right there.

He doesn’t even think about what he’s doing before his tongue darts out and tastes the tip of Castiel’s finger. _Holy mother of fuck_. His mouth opens and he groans wantonly as he wraps his lips around Castiel’s fingers and laps up every drop of the unadulterated _best_ thing he’s ever had in his mouth. His cock is throbbing with want, more turned on by this than anything he’s ever done in his life, and then his cock twitches again when he thinks about what Castiel asked. Can he use his oil to open him up?

 _Yes._ God, yes, Dean wants this oil inside of him with his angel’s fingers and his thick cock…

He sucks at the tip of Castiel’s fingers before he releases them with a wet _pop_. “Yes, Castiel,” Dean answers, his voice barely above a whisper. He clears his throat and tries again. “Put your oil inside of me.”

Castiel's lips crash into his so hard it’s almost painful, but still amazing, and Dean still somehow registers that his arm is slipping behind him again and Dean lets his legs fall open wider in invitation for his lover. The sensation of Castiel’s long finger slipping along his ass crack already has Dean’s head thrown back on the pillow underneath him in pure pleasure.

A single digit pushes inside of him, the oil easing the way, and Dean keens when it slides all the way in perfectly without a single twinge of pain.

“Mmm, Dean, so lovely, sweetheart,” Castiel praises him, lavishing kisses along his chest and down to his stomach.

“Feels _so_ good. So perfect.”

Dean’s fingers bury themselves in Castiel’s soft hair, cording through it, caressing him, wanting to show him how much he cares for him, how much this means to him, how _perfect_ he feels.

Castiel’s finger slips in and out of him, fingering him expertly, and Dean can almost feel his muscles relaxing for him, inviting him in for more.

“Flawless,” Castiel breathes. He closes his lips around the budding of Dean’s nipple and laves his tongue across it, causing Dean to arch up off the mattress with unbridled pleasure. His hands tighten in Castiel’s hair, barely noticing a second finger working its way inside of him.

Again, there’s no pain, just sweet, sweet pleasure and Dean whines with the perfection of it all. Castiel’s fingers thrust inside of him, sending waves of pleasure through his body in time with every push inside of him. Cas feels so good, _so right_ , like every part of him was made for Dean specifically and he wants them to come together _desperately._

“Ah, angel, god, I - I need you, Castiel,” Dean pleads, swallowing down the declaration of love that was coming to his lips.

 _I love him?_ That’s… impossible. It’s just the pleasure. The unbelievable pleasure confusing him, is all.

He feels Castiel’s fingers scissoring inside of him, stretching him open bit by bit, and Dean writhes with each pass of his fingers as he _just_ misses that sweet spot inside of him over and over.

“Please, Cas, my angel, _please_ ,” Dean begs.

“ _Yes_ , I’m yours for all of eternity,” Castiel promises. “My body. My heart, my everything. Always.”

Everything inside of him melts. _Yes_. His words are like music to his ears. That’s exactly what he wants, what he needs. He needs his scent, the taste of his skin, the weight of his body pressing him into the mattress _always_.

“Need - need to taste you,” Dean stutters.

Castiel pulls his fingers out of him and drapes his body on top of Dean’s, aligning their cocks again while he exposes his throat for him, like he knew exactly what Dean needed.

Dean latches onto his neck with his mouth, sucking hard, licking against that swollen spot on his throat over and over, wanting to drown in the ambrosia of his mate.

His teeth press against his skin and he feels an overwhelming need to sink his teeth into him there _hard_. Everything inside of him is consumed with the need to bite. Bite, bite, bite. He _just_ manages to turn his head, panting and gritting his teeth.

“Cas - Cas something’s wrong,” Dean gasps, trying to warn him.

Castiel’s rhythmic thrusting against his body stops immediately and his wings come forward to brush down his arms, soothing some of the panic inside of him instantly.

“What is it? Are you alright?” Castiel asks him.

“I - I - fuck,” Dean moans, still unable to tear his eyes away from the exposed column of his throat. “I’m losin’ it man. I wanna bite you,” Dean tries to explain.

That purring sound that was coming from Castiel earlier starts up again and Dean can’t fight back his smile. He doesn’t understand it, but his angel is happy.

“You _what_?” Castiel asks.

“I dunno, man. I’m not into blood play _at all_ but I… I almost can’t help it. I need to bite down on your neck,” Dean’s fingers dig into Castiel’s feathers, grasping them so hard his knuckles must be turning white. He’s afraid if he lets up he’ll grab his head and turn it until he sinks his teeth through his flesh. “Fuck. _I need to_ , Cas, I don’t think I can stop it. You gotta get away from me.”

The purr coming from Castiel is getting louder by the second. “Mating bites. That’s how angels mate, Dean. You want to bite me?”

Dean’s cock hardens impossibly further from Castiel’s words alone. “ _God yes_. Wanna mate you. Need you. You’re… you’re mine, Cas.” He takes a deep breath and admits, “You’re my mate.”

Castiel lets put a long, drawn-out moan. “If you bite me, I get to bite you,” Castiel explains. His hips thrust forwards again and Dean moans at the friction. “If we bite each other there’s no undoing it. The mark - ungh -“ Castiel breathes, thrusting harder against him like he can’t hold back anymore “- will never fade. Our scents will mingle and we’ll have an unbreakable bond. Forever.” He stops talking to hiss again when Dean runs his hands through his wings. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“I’m yours, Cas. Only yours. I don’t want anybody else. I want your mark,” Dean says as clearly as he can.

Castiel kisses him softly but passionately, and something inside of his chest feels like it opens up and he’s flooded with emotion.

“My mate,” Castiel breathes against his lips. “My beautiful, perfect, _brilliant_ mate.” Castiel’s voice is thick with emotion and Dean aches to make him feel better. “I want you to bite me, my love, but I want to be inside of you first.”

Their lips brush together again and Dean moans into his mouth.

“Yes, angel. Make love to me,” Dean asks him, uttering those words for the first time in his life. He can’t fight it anymore.

He doesn’t understand it but he loves Castiel.

He loves the way he smells, the way he feels, the way he tastes. He loves his body, and his face, and the grace he can feel tingling against his skin. He loves the connection between them, and he loves the way he makes him feel.

He loves him.

 

* * *

 

Castiel uses another tiny tendril of his grace to make sure Dean opens for him painlessly as he pushes three oil slicked fingers inside of him. He stretches so naturally for him, so perfectly, Castiel can’t imagine anything better.

His mind is still whirling from Dean’s instincts telling him to bite. Any tiny sliver of doubt that lingered about him mating with a human vanished in that moment.

Dean is his. Dean _knows_ he’s his, and Dean wants to bite him.

He’s absolutely brilliant.

He’s also exceptionally needy.

Dean's ass pushes back against his fingers, angling his hips, trying desperately to force Castiel’s fingers to brush against his prostate. Castiel knows Dean is dangerously close to completion, though, and he doesn’t want him to find his release before they’re mated, so he continues to avoid that spot.

“I know, sweetheart,” Castiel soothes him. “I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to bring you so much pleasure.”

“Please, Cas, _please_ ,” Dean begs him.

Is there a sweeter sound in the world than his mate desperately begging for him?

Castiel can’t stop kissing him. He feels as if he’s traced every inch of his flawless skin along his stomach, his chest, and even his hips multiple times and it _still_ isn’t enough.

It will never be enough.

His fingers are moving in and out of his mate with ease now and Castiel knows he’s ready for him. He withdraws his fingers carefully and cleans them off with a thought. He gets an idea.

“Dean, can you stimulate my oil glands for more oil, please?” Castiel asks him.

Castiel leans down to brush his lips against Dean’s when he sees his eyes go wide and his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows what Castiel assumes is desire.

“How?” Dean rasps.

Castiel gets onto his knees, folds in his wigs, and turns so that his back is to Dean. Almost immediately, Dean is pressed against him from behind. His lips are on Castiel’s neck, drifting over his now swollen scent gland, and his hands deep in his plumage, cording through his feathers.

Castiel sighs his happiness. Every time Dean touches him it feels _so good_.

“Dean,” Castiel gasps.

“Angel,” Dean responds, and Castiel’s feathers fluff up with happiness.

He’s Dean’s angel. All his.

“Follow my wings to my back,” Castiel guides him. He feels Dean’s hands slowly making their way down his wing bones, carefully not ruffling his feathers the wrong way even though there’s no way Dean should know not to do that. “Slip your hands underneath.” Castiel’s wings quiver as his fingers drift closer and closer. He’s so close now that even Castiel’s limbs are trembling. “Almost,” Castiel prompts him. He feels his finger prod his spongy glands and he feels arousal spike through his entire body like electricity.

A guttural sound of pleasure rips from his throat as Dean strokes his glands ever so softly and Castiel feels oil release from his heavy glands

“Dean,” Castiel pants, barely able to catch his breath.

“Fuck you smell good here,” Dean answers him, breathing in deep. “Wanna taste you. Wanna get my lips right on those glands, angel.”

Castiel whimpers when he feels Dean’s hot breath on his wing bone. Then he’s kissed on his wings for the first time in his existence and he knows there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for more of this - more of _Dean_ like this. His grace is thrumming powerfully inside of him, making his wings throb with it. Dean’s lips move across his wings, closer and closer, until he carefully pulls on his wing joint to get closer to his glands.

Dean applies pressure to Castiel’s neck, and Castiel bows his head, and then Dean’s mouth is there. His tongue laps at his glands and Castiel calls out.

“ _Dean!_ ” he shouts. Grace bursts out of him in a rush of pleasure and he winces as the light bulbs on his ceiling fan explode.

He can hear Dean moaning behind him while he slurps at his oil, apparently completely oblivious to losing half of the light in the room. “Holy fuck, Castiel. I would happily drown in this. So fucking good, baby.”

“Dean, please. I can’t wait - _ungh_!” Castiel calls out as Dean sucks skillfully. “Slick me up so I can mate you,” Castiel urges him.

Dean’s hand, already coated in his oils, snakes its way around his stomach and down to his cock. Dean's lips are on his neck again, as if he can't stay away, and Castiel has to use every ounce of control he possesses not to thrust into the tight circle of his mate's fist until he comes when he feels his hand on him for the first time.

“You’re so hard for me, angel,” Dean gasps.

“I have never _wanted_ like this in my entire existence,” Castiel promises him.

"Want you, too, Castiel. So bad," Dean admits, sucking hard on Castiel's neck.

“Turn around for me, my love.”

Dean strokes him once more, dangerously close to sending Castiel over the edge, before the solid length of his body moves away and he falls back onto the bed.

When Castiel turns back around, his heart stumbles in his chest. His mate is glistening with his oil. It’s on his hands, his face, his chest - it’s _everywhere_ and Dean looks like every fantasy he’s ever allowed himself to indulge in right before his eyes. Dean's cheeks are flushed red, his lips shiny with his oil and swollen from kissing, his eyes are heavily lidded with arousal, and the combination of the smell of his oil on Dean’s skin has _claim claim claim_ resounding through him frantically.

Castiel takes his wing in his hand and lifts it to wipe off Dean’s mouth and face gently before he positions himself between his waiting lover’s legs. Castiel slides his cock along the line of Dean’s cheeks only once before he can’t possibly wait anymore. He takes himself in hand to line himself up with Dean’s waiting hole and meets his mate’s eyes.

“Please, Cas,” Dean asks him again.

And Castiel pushes firmly into him, through the ring of muscle, and deep into his warmth, slick with oils, groaning as he sinks inside inch my inch.

“Uhhh, _Cas_ , yeah,” Dean gasps, his mouth already hanging open in pleasure.

“ _Mine_ ,” Castiel sighs, finding Dean’s lips and pressing his tongue into his mouth while he waits for Dean’s body to get used to him inside. He tastes himself in Dean’s mouth and the memory of Dean’s mouth on his glands rips another sound of pleasure from him.

“Yours,” Dean answers the moment their lips part. “Feel so good, angel. My angel. Move, baby. Make love to me.”

 

* * *

 

The first tiny thrust inside of him is already overwhelmingly hot. Castiel is filling him so perfectly, he’s reminded of what Castiel said earlier. Two puzzle pieces fitting together. He feels exactly right with Castiel inside of him.

“More,” Dean pleads, moving his hands over Castiel’s strong shoulders.

Castiel pulls out half way and pushes back in again and again while Dean’s body goes completely lax, submitting entirely to his mate, wanting him to take as much pleasure from him as he can. Castiel’s lips never stop moving against his. They trail across his face and under his chin, over the shell of his ear and behind to the sensitive skin there, leaving a hot line of fire on his skin as he moves along inch by inch.

Castiel takes a hold of his leg and hitches it up around his waist, and on the next thrust, he sinks in deeper than before and the new angle of his hips has him finally slamming into his prostate.

“ _Fuck_!” Dean calls out as Castiel drives into him over and over, hitting his prostate randomly and keeping him on edge, waiting for the next spike of pleasure to assault his senses.

“You’re so gorgeous, Dean. You feel perfect. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you, my beautiful, beautiful mate,” Castiel tells him between kisses, his praise punctuated with another snap of his hips

 _Mate, mate, mate_ echoes inside of Dean’s brain, and the need to bite him hits him again like a freight train.

“Need you, Castiel. Can I bite you?” Dean gasps.

“ _Dean, please_ ,” Castiel whines. “Forever,” he reminds him.

“You're my mate, Cas. Forever,” Dean promises, pressing his lips against his once more before Castiel turns his head to the side for him. Dean smashes his nose against Castiel’s neck, somehow knowing he needs to take in as much of his scent as he can before it changes. He laps at the bruise he’s already sucked there, eliciting a moan from Castiel vibrating against his tongue.

He knows, but still, he has to ask. “Here, Cas?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Castiel pants, his breathing coming hard while he circles his hips and pushes his cock deep inside of him.

“Fuck,” Dean responds. He takes in one more final breath of _Castiel_ before he sinks his teeth deep into the swollen flesh of his neck, breaking the skin and tasting the coppery flavor of Castiel’s blood seep into his mouth as Castiel fucks into him deep and hard.

 

* * *

 

Castiel feels the entire world shift the moment Dean’s teeth pierce his skin.

Dean is _everything_. He exists only to be with Dean. He belongs to Dean. Dean is his mate. He’s finally, _finally_ with his mate. Nothing else matters.

He stops his blood flowing out of the wound with a thought and still feels overwhelmed with the pleasure pulsing along his skin.

His hips thrust forwards madly, thrusting into Dean like a wild man as he chases his orgasm. With the bond half-formed his mating instincts are taking over.

_Claim claim claim claim._

“Are you alright?” Castiel hears himself ask Dean.

“Don’t stop, angel, so fucking close,” Dean warns him. “Want your mark. Need it so bad.”

Castiel pounds into him brutally, hitching Dean's other leg up and sinking into him deeper than before. Dean’s hands come up to grip his wing joints and he pulls himself up, lifting his hips to meet each thrust half way and causing Castiel to call out with pleasure.

He braces himself on one elbow and reaches out to grip Dean’s heavy cock in his hand. He strokes him in time with his thrusts, pulling him closer and closer to the edge along with him.

“Cas, Cas, Cas,” Dean chants. “I’m gonna - _fuck, Cas_ \- I’m… I’m…”

Castiel watches with reverence as Dean’s body tightens and he comes between their bodies, painting the back of his hand and Dean’s stomach with white ribbons of cum. He’s absolutely gorgeous.

Dean turns his head to the side, exposing his throat and sobs, “ _Mate me!_ ”

The muscles inside of Dean’s ass pulse around him, and as Castiel begins to feel his own body locking up with pleasure, he finally gives into the magnetic force pulling his lips towards Dean neck. He sends a burst of grace into Dean before he bares his teeth and _finally_ bites down hard on Dean’s neck, claiming his mate for all of eternity and completing their bond.

Euphoria overcomes him and he feels his orgasm rip through him with indescribable pleasure. He spills his seed inside of his mate, pumping his hips and forcing his cum deep inside.

He licks over Dean’s wound, healing it so he doesn’t cause his mate any unnecessary pain, and as he inhales the first breath of their bonded scent, he finally lets the words spill from between his lips.

“I love you,” he gasps.

“I love you, angel,” Dean returns, his smile brighter than Castiel has ever seen it.

Their lips find each other and they glide together sweetly as Castiel thrusts slowly through the end of his orgasm. When he’s completely spent, he pulls out of Dean carefully, cleans up the mess between them with a flick of his hand, and rolls onto his back so that Dean is pillowed on his chest with his wings wrapped around him protectively.

They lay in what Castiel believes to be a comfortable silence with only the sound of Castiel's purring in the air until their breath has evened out again.

Castiel kisses the top of Dean’s head and runs his hand through his hair gently. “Are you alright?”

 

* * *

 

Dean takes in a deep breath, his mind still going a mile a minute even as his body tries to pull him into sleep.

Is he alright?

He just spontaneously formed an unbreakable lifelong bond with an angel he didn’t even know existed an hour ago.

But he smiles.

Because now he’s found his mate, the love of his life, the one person who will never leave him no matter what.

“I’m so good, Cas. Absolutely perfect,” he realizes happily. “You okay?”

“Okay does not do the elation I’m feeling at this moment any justice at all. I didn’t know why I kept feeling this pull towards earth. You know it isn’t common for angels to walk among you, but I couldn’t deny the pull. I knew I had to be here, and for a dozen years I didn’t know why. Now I do. For you, Dean. And you’re perfect,” Castiel praises him.

It isn't true, but still, Dean warms as Castiel's words fill him with additional happiness.

“I, uh, always had a thing for wings. Like you said, felt this pull towards angels, like it was a compulsion or something. My brother kinda thought I was obsessed, but now I get it. I think I was lookin’ for you. I was always lookin’ for you,” Dean suddenly understands.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Castiel sighs happily.

“You know, when I was little, my mom, uh, she used to tell me that I had angels watching over me,” Dean admits. “I told myself that’s why I was so into them.”

“I would like to meet her,” Castiel says sincerely.

“She died. When I was four,” Dean whispers.

Castiel’s body tightens almost imperceptibly around him. “Who is your mother, Dean?”

“Mary Winchester,” Dean responds.

 

* * *

 

Castiel’s heart is beating uncontrolably in his chest.

“You’re - you’re _Dean Winchester_?” Castiel asks.

Dean pops his head up to rest it on his hand. “Yeah... why?”

“I have been hearing your prayers since I first stepped foot on earth,” Castiel answers.

Memories of Dean pleading for help, crying for an angel to save him and his brother - Sammy, how could he not have put it together? - begging for food, asking for forgiveness after he sold his body for money for his family, asking for help for his father, his heart breaking over and over again as person after person left him feeling worthless and alone.

“No,” Dean rasps. “You can’t. You _can’t_ have heard what I - the things I did, Cas…”

Castiel can feel the panic surging through Dean’s body, the shame, the disgust aimed towards himself.

“Dean, my love, I am so sorry I couldn’t find you sooner. I searched for you. All I’ve been doing since I first heard you was search for you. You moved around so much, used so many different names and aliases, and I could never find you before you moved on to the next place. I am so, so, sorry,” Castiel tells him, his heart breaking for the things his mate has had to live through. “You will never be alone again. You will never be in pain, or want for anything a single day for the duration of your life.”

“You - you still want me? Knowing… everything?” Dean asks, his voice coming out in a rasp.

“You are _my mate_ Dean. You were made for me. I was proud to bind myself to you before I knew the man you are, but now? Now I know I am bound to the bravest, smartest, most selfless person with the biggest heart of anybody I’ve ever encountered. I am so, so proud to be your mate, Dean Winchester.”

 

* * *

 

Dean feels tears come to his eyes, and one spills over and rolls down his cheek.

_Angels are watching over you._

And his mom was right.

He’ll never be alone again.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean chokes out.

“And I, you, my love. We’re going to be okay,” he promises.

“Yeah,” Dean realizes with a watery smile. “I think so, too.” He burrows further into Castiel’s neck and breathes in deep, letting their mingling scents calm him. “We smell fucking amazing by the way,” Dean murmurs.

Dean hears Castiel laugh for the first time, and the sound fills him with happiness beyond anything he’s ever known before.

Cas is right. They’re going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If people like this story, I can almost guarantee some sexy wing kink time stamps... so subscribe if you're into that kinda thing :)
> 
> If you're new here, please feel free to follow me on Twitter!
> 
> https://twitter.com/tricia_16_
> 
> or my fan fiction account 
> 
> https://twitter.com/tricia_16fanfic


	3. Don't Knock It Until You Try It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While his brother is discovering his true mate, Sam is learning a lesson from Gabriel about following his heart's desire...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked for it, and my best friend [Michelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/profile) delivered!
> 
> She took what I already started and added the perfect Sabriel twist to it, and honestly one of the BEST characterizations of Gabriel I have ever read! If you're into this, I HIGHLY suggest taking a look at some of her other work because this girl has some talent!

“Gabriel - _behave_ ,” the angel with the black wings says.

Gabriel. _So_ that _is the name of his current predicament_ , Sam thinks to himself. The look the blonde angel gives his brother before he turns to walk away clearly indicates his plans are far from having to do with good behavior. Sweat begins to run down Sam’s back, straight into the back of his ridiculous spandex booty shorts. Not that the tiny piece of clothing can be referred to as shorts, he snorts out loud to himself. More like a handkerchief if anything.

Gabriel turns his gaze upon Sam at his sudden noise and smiles. “What's your poison?”

“Huh?”

“Man of few words. I like that Sambo.”

 _Sambo?_ Sam thinks. The wink Gabriel throws at him makes his stomach knot. _Goddammit Dean_ , he thinks for the hundredth time tonight. He blinks and forces himself to remain focused when he realizes the other man - or, uh, angel, he mentally corrects himself - is still speaking. You’d think the giant wings sprouting from his back would be enough to remind him that he’s with an angel and not a man.

“What can I get you to drink from the bar?” Gabriel asks again.

 _Oh!_ “Beer is fine but, uh,” he swallows audibly, “I thought you said we were going to, and I quote, ‘blow this popsicle stand.’”

Gabriel brings a hand up to place on his heart dramatically. “Oh Sammykins, you wound me! What kind of Neanderthal do you think I am? I buy every one of my dates a drink, at the very least. Plus, they have food here if you’re hungry. It isn’t exactly five star cuisine, but it's edible,” he offers.

Sam can’t even remember the last time he indulged in a burger. He’s a little hungry, but he decides against food. He can’t imagine a place like this would have much he’d consider eating, anyway. “Beer is good, thanks.” He has a feeling he’s going to need lots and lots of beer.

“Are you sure? I want to make sure you keep your strength up. I have plans for you, after all. 2AM is a long ways away,” Gabriel says suggestively.

Sam fights the urge to punch the guy when he feels him place a hand on his bare shoulder. He remains silent instead, staring blankly down at the angel.

Gabriel removes his hand casually. “Alrighty-o, I’ll meet you at the bar.”

“Meet me?” Sam asks, surprised that the angel is letting him out of his sight.

Gabriel turns back around and his wings bounce slightly when the angel laughs. “Unless you plan to stay in the Santa panties all night? I sure as hell don’t mind,” he grins. “But your big bro headed that way to change a few minutes ago.” Gabriel gestures to the hallway where Sam and Dean changed earlier.

The stony glare falls from Sam’s face as understanding dawns. Okay, so this guy’s a little forward but he’s not a total dick. “Oh, right. Okay, yeah. I’ll just be a minute.”

The time it takes for Sam to walk to the locker room, change into actual clothes, and then walk back to the bar is enough to shift his entire approach to the evening he has ahead of him. Now that he is no longer on display in those ridiculous shorts, he feels more settled. As he approaches the bar, his footsteps stutter slightly.

He may have spoken too soon when he told Dean he wasn't into wings the same way as him because seeing the massive wings spread on display before him makes Sam pause to stare for a minute. The layers upon layers of downy fluff is nothing short of… majestic. Each feather seems to be a living, breathing thing on its own, but the mass of them together? _Wow!_ The sight makes him forget, at least momentarily, that they’re attached to a loud, crass angel that shouted his desire of being impregnated by him less than an hour ago. Sam’s fingers twitch with the inclination to run through the soft cream colored feathers that morph into golden tips. Not even just gold, but _shiny_ gold. His wings glint beautifully even in the poor fluorescent lights of the bar. Sam has enough time to wonder how stunning they would look in the bright sunlight before his reverie is shattered.

“Are you going to join me for a drink or continue to leer at my appendages?” Gabriel asks him with a smirk. Sam takes a seat beside Gabriel hesitantly. He feels his jaw tighten as Gabriel gives him a sideways but still obvious once-over “I certainly don’t _mind.”_ He straightens his back, bringing his face level with Sam’s and continues _,_ “In fact, if you like what you see here, I have other appendages you may find even more appealing.”

Gabriel's warm breath ghosts across Sam’s cheek, causing a hint of sweet strawberries to fill his nostrils. Sam just barely suppresses a shudder as he feels something whisper soft and wonderfully warm brush against his right shoulder. He holds the angel’s gaze, taking note of how the flecks of gold swimming in the honey of his eyes matches his feathers exactly.

Sam forces his head to turn away and his hand to raise the beer bottle to his mouth. “Think I’ll pass. I’m not into guys so you can save yourself the poorly executed attempt at picking me up.”

He can feel Gabriel's eyes boring into him as he gulps down half the beer in one go.

Gabriel finally pulls back after he makes an amused sound in his throat. “Technically, I’m not a guy, but whatever you say, my sweet Cannoli,” Gabriel tells him. Sam chooses to ignore the slight edge to the playful words.

Sam’s bottle lands with a loud clunk as he clumsily drops it onto the bar. “What does that even me-" he cuts himself off with a shake of the head and swipes his wide hand through the air. “You know what? Never mind,” he decides belatedly. He glances down at Gabriel's drink and wrinkles his nose as the last drops of the pink concoction disappear past Gabriel’s lips. “Looks like you need a refill of uh, whatever that is. It’s the least I can do after your outrageous bid on me.”

Gabriel sets his glass down gently before turning to Sam. A smile stretches across his face without reaching his eyes. “Nah, I think I’m good. It was nice meeting you, Sam. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” He pats Sam on the shoulder as he slides off his stool. It might just be Sam’s imagination but he could swear Gabriel’s feathers seem a bit muted in color. Duller, maybe.

He stares at the empty stool beside him, trying to sort out what just happened. The one detail that sticks out to him the most, even in his state of bewilderment, is the fact that Gabriel called him Sam instead of some ridiculous version of it. Shit. He must’ve pissed him off or hurt his feelings or something. “Wait, come back here, Gabe!” He spins and slides off the stool, then sighs in relief when he finds the angel standing at the jukebox. For a second, he had feared he’d find just a single feather left on the floor of the bar after he flew away.

“Hey,” Sam calls to his back. “Did you forget I’m all yours until two?”

Gabriel's wings flutter and arch slightly in response to Sam’s words, only to droop again a second later when Gabriel responds over his shoulder. “Consider your debt paid. I’ve been around for centuries, but even I don’t have time to hang out with people who don’t want me around.”

Sam lets out a long sigh as he feels guilt set in, and he knows his brow furrows. “Look, I’m sorry. That was kind of a dickbag thing to say. It's just that I’ve never...” His voice trails off as he runs his hand through his hair. “My brother, he... but, I don’t know. I never...”

Gabriel echoes back Sam’s sigh as he turns from the machine, holding his hand up, palm out. “Just stop embarrassing yourself. It’s fine. Now get out of here. You’re kind of killing my chances of hooking up with somebody else tonight.” He turns back on Sam and faces the giant LED screen, tapping his finger on the glass and scrolling through the selections.

Sam opens his mouth to speak but snaps it shut with a click of his teeth before any words actually pass his lips. “Gabriel, I -” He flinches as the angel turns toward him suddenly with his eyes glowing with a golden glint.

“What _is it_ with you humans?” he asks, obviously annoyed.

“Uh, care to be more specific? We’re kind of a fucked up group,” Sam comments.

“How is it one of you managed to develop penicillin from a fungus - a drug used to treat and save _countless_ lives - and yet here _you are,_ apparently incapable of following your own heart's desire for fear of what society thinks? How did humans manage to place a robotic machine on Mars, a chunk of rock 33 million miles away, but still can’t get over yourselves?”

Gabriel closes the distance between them, bringing their faces inches apart despite the height difference, and making Sam’s heart start beating frantically. The angel’s eyes are still lit up and Sam pushes away the mild sense of apprehension quickly forming in his chest. He no longer needs the visual reminder of the wings that are now arched far over Gabriel’s head to see that this is not a man standing in front of him. The tips of his wings are knocking over chairs and smacking against the forgotten jukebox in a blatant display of exactly what he is. This is a wise being greater than anything he ever has or ever will encounter in his short, pathetic human existence. An energy begins to buzz within Sam’s chest the longer Gabriel stands before him. It doesn’t feel like fear or nerves anymore. Excitement maybe?

“How is it that you people are able to send a machine fully capable of collecting and analyzing data 33 _million_ miles away but you are unable to pay attention to what _this_ is telling you?”

Sam lets out an ‘oomph’ sound as Gabriel jabs a finger at the middle of his chest, emphasizing his point.

Sam swallows nervously. “I don’t know how you want me to answer that.”

The angel removes his finger but remains in Sam’s space. He continues as if Sam hasn’t spoken at all, “Why must everyone fucking label everything? Why can’t you humans just like somebody for who they are and not for what they have between their legs? Why does it matter? I just don't get you people.”

Sam finds himself tuning the angel’s rant out as his face takes on a deeper shade of red the more agitated he becomes. He can’t form a coherent rebuttal because he knows deep down that everything this all-knowing creature is saying... is true.

 _Forget about the human race, what about me?_ Sam thinks _._ _What about Sam Winchester?_ Earlier, he told his brother he wasn't into guys, but if he’s honest with himself that isn’t entirely true. At least as far as he knows, anyway. It’s true that he has never felt a sexual attraction to another man, but he’s also never won the lottery. Neither will occur if he doesn’t open himself up to play. He never shied away from admitting or noticing how attractive he finds some men. Just because he didn’t pop a boner doesn’t mean he should rule all men out, right? And he suddenly realizes that this is exactly where Gabriel's point of frustration stems from. All Sam really knows, is in this moment, the longer he stands with Gabriel, the stronger this feeling in his chest is. His palms are sweating and there’s a roaring in his ears.

Before he’s able to talk himself out of it, Sam follows his heart’s current desire. Placing a hand firmly on each side of Gabriel's neck, he pulls the angel closer, eliminating the little space remaining between them. At the last moment he holds back the force of his lips just enough to avoid the two of them crashing together violently. The end result is a soft, chaste meeting of wet, warm lips. His fingers flex lightly with his body’s acceptance before his tongue licks across the seal of Gabriel’s mouth. The roaring in his ears intensifies as the beating in his chest begins to synch with the flutter of Gabriel's wings behind him.

Gabriel inhales deeply through his nose, exhaling through his lips as they part slightly, allowing Sam further access. As his tongue enters the warm cavern of his mouth, he swipes across Gabe’s tongue, sending a delicious sensation buzzing through his taste buds. A low moan escapes his throat. He pulls back from Gabriel's lips, breaking their kiss, but keeping his hands in place.

The glow is gone from Gabriel's eyes and in its place are large black pupils surrounded by a thin edge of honey. Gabriel swallows obviously and then croaks,“Uh, ok. What the hell was that?”

Sam lets his hands slide down Gabriel's neck until they reach his shoulders. He smiles down at the angel. He doesn't have wings to show off like Gabriel does so he hopes his dimples will do. “You wouldn’t shut up long enough for me to apologize for being such an ass and also you, kinda, uh…”

Sam points towards the ceiling, and Gabriel tilts his head up to follow his finger. Hanging from what appears to be a straightened paper clip is a branch of clearly fake - “ _Mistletoe?_ ” Gabriel asks in surprise.

The corner of Sam’s mouth quirks as a deep blush begins spreading from his neck to the tips of his ears. “If Santa #4 doesn’t obey the rules of Christmas etiquette, the whole system might just crumble in on itself, you know,” Sam teases.

“Well who am I to buck the system?” Gabriel responds. Then, without warning, Gabriel grasps Sam’s shoulders, lifts him off the ground and spins them around before setting Sam back onto the ground.

“Holy shit,” Sam gasps. “You are -”

“An angel and you weigh nothing to me,” Gabriel finishes for him.

Gabriel steps in close again as his hands skim down his arms and past his hips. As they slip closer to his ass Sam steps back. “Whoa, feathers, let's slow this down a little,” Sam urges him.

Gabriel's hands immediately leave Sam’s body and the look that crosses his face is nothing short of horror. “I’m sorry, Sam -” he sputters.

Sam takes Gabriel’s hands and places them back over his slim hips. “I didn’t say no touching,” Sam interrupts. “Just start off slow. This seems like a good place to start.”

The mischievous grin returns to Gabriel's face while a single eyebrow arches high. “My my, what do we have here, my beautiful stud muffin?” He glances down at the front of Sam’s jeans then back up at Sam’s face. Sam was so distracted by the fading tingling of his lips that he didn’t notice how uncomfortably tight the front of his pants has become.Then Gabriel looks up at the ceiling, and grins. “I believe _you_ are now the one under the mistletoe, my sweet candy cane.” He leans in closer, obviously waiting for Sam to take the lead.

“Rules are rules,” Sam relents, smiling back at him.

As Gabriel's gold tipped wings arch high and then enclose the two in a private cocoon, Sam thinks his brother might be right after all. He shouldn’t have knocked it until he tried it.


End file.
